A frequent flyer's collection of trip diaries

Some enchanted evening

ABOVE:
An introductory view of Prague Castle from the Charles Bridge

I stood on the Charles Bridge in the chilly darkness of an
early-spring evening and gazed at the vista that lay before me. In
front of me and to my left, on the distant bank of the Vltava river,
the shadowy outlines of Prague's Little Quarter emerged from the
waters, the bright lights of riverside attractions playing on the
surface and giving rise to shimmering reflections. Behind
these, more gentle, yellow-tinted glows emanated from numerous
windows, each indicating an anonymous spark of local life and together giving just
enough light to make the individual buildings distinguishable.
Sitting above
all of this, and seemingly growing out of it as though pushed up by
some almighty primeval force, was Prague Castle. The positioning,
combined with full-on floodlighting and the assortment of pastel shades,
made me think of a particularly appealing layer in a tiered cake -
an elaborate and whimsical confection where the chef had run amok
with a limitless supply of icing sugar and those little bottles of food colouring. And
still it didn't end there, for growing out of the castle in
turn and sitting triumphantly on top of the whole magnificent ensemble was
the great cathedral of St Vitus, its impressive bulk thrusting skywards as if in a spirited
attempt to touch the heavens themselves. I had imagined this view in
my mind's eye for several weeks prior to the trip, and now I was able to savour
the reality. I took my time and let my surroundings work their
magic, realising that just as I had hoped, the experience was acting
like any good appetiser and making me eager to start on the main
course, in this case a full exploration of the Castle District the
following day.

I knew how good it felt to be back in this
wonderful European capital after a gap of nearly nine years. Beside me stood my
friend Bruce, for whom this was a first visit to both the city and
the country. Earlier that day we had met up at London's Heathrow
Airport, and being dyed-in-the-wool frequent travellers were able
to enjoy the attractive Cathay Pacific lounge in
Terminal 3 before taking our British Airways flight to Prague's
Václav Havel Airport. (The airport is, of course, named after
the mild-mannered writer who became the much revered and honoured final
president of Czechoslovakia and first president of the Czech
Republic.) After installing ourselves at our chosen hotel, the
Hilton Prague Old Town, we had partaken of cocktails and canapés in
the executive lounge there, before embarking on an introductory stroll
through the Old Town to our present location.

Eventually, we realised that it was time to tear our eyes away and
move on; the chill in the air had got ever more pervasive, the
longer we had become mesmerised and allowed time to slip away while
standing still. As we slowly began to retrace our steps, however, it
was clear that the show was far from over. Below us, the mighty
Vltava made its way northwards towards its confluence with the Elbe,
less than 50km away. Although the waters weren't always easy to see
in the darkness, I nevertheless imagined that I could feel the
river's power surging along beneath my feet. Not surprisingly for a classical music fan, a
particular movement from Bedřich Smetana's tone poem Má Vlast
('My Fatherland') was playing inside my head - the one named after,
and inspired by, the very river over which we were now passing. The
floodlit sculptures on the Charles Bridge took on a ghostly
aspect in the night air as we walked the final section and
arrived back in Prague's Old Town, on the river's right bank.

We made our way back to Old Town Square, seeing
the striking Old Town Hall, Tyn Church and St Nicholas' Church, all
impressively floodlit. Although the present-day Czech Republic is statistically
one of the least religious countries in the world, it
was only a few days before the beginning of Lent and there was evidence
that the city was in carnival mode; it seemed that the good citizens of
the capital were sufficiently pragmatic to recognise an excuse for a party
when they heard one. We stopped off at an authentic-looking beer hall
on Celetná Street to sample the local product along with some tasty
and unexpectedly spicy sausages. This also gave us the opportunity
to try a shot of Becherovka, a
rather pleasant herbal spirit produced in Karlovy Vary, which was
destined to turn up again (and again!) as the trip ran its course.

Stomachs and senses satisfied, we returned to the Hilton,
ready for a good night's sleep.
The introductions were over and tomorrow we'd be getting down to
some serious sightseeing business.